


Rival Skies, Part One: Ord Mantell

by Darth_Vodka



Series: Rival Skies [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: A-Wing, Executor, Galactic Empire, Mon Calamari, Ord Mantell, Rebel Alliance, Reef Home, Royal Guard Pilot, Space Battles, Super Star Destroyer, TIE Interceptor, X-Wing, Y-Wing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Vodka/pseuds/Darth_Vodka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ace TIE Interceptor pilot from the Emperor's Royal Guard meets her match over the Rebellion sympathetic world of Ord Mantell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rival Skies, Part One: Ord Mantell

**Rival Skies**

**Part 1: Ord Mantell**

                Outside the Executive state room aboard Super Star Destroyer _Executor_ , Darth Vader and Admiral Firmus Piett waited in silence. Two Imperial Royal Guards flanked the sealed entrance; their bright red armor a sharp contrast to the drab galvanized durasteel corridors. The slow, reciprocating sound of the Dark Lord’s respirator persisted through the silence, ticking off the long, anxious minutes.

                Admiral Piett had toured the burnt out ruins of Echo Base after the Battle of Hoth, he had walked the corpse ridden trenches and he had felt the dagger like winds that accompanied nightfall on that worthless frozen rock. The ice water that now pulsed through his veins made Hoth seem like tropical memory. The Emperor had summoned him. No other person in the galaxy could keep both Lord Vader and an Imperial Admiral waiting like cadet couriers at the Imperial Academy. It was purposeful; designed to remind two very important men where the true power resides.

                The door opened on its own, ominously devoid of a host.

                “Enter, Lord Vader.” The hollow echo of the Emperor’s voice beckoned from within, “You as well Admiral.”

                Side by side the two men entered the cavernous suite, simply listed as a State Room on the vessel’s general arrangement plan. The Emperor, clad in his black robes, glided across the floor with an ancient elegance. Both Darth Vader and Admiral Piett took a knee, a moment the Emperor allowed to linger.

                “Rise my friends.” Palpatine instructed, his voice cut through Piett like a slow, cold electric shock.

                _Friends?_ Piett thought, as astounded as he was terrified.

                “Welcome aboard the _Executor_ , my Master. What is thy bidding?” Vader asked.

                The Emperor’s visit had been scheduled as a tour of the vessel and as part of a reward for their glorious victory at Hoth. Hours prior to arrival, the Emperor had ordered all ceremonies canceled.

                “I’m afraid we have no time for celebration, as we must act quickly to exploit the opportunities afforded us by the scattering of the Rebel Fleet.” The Emperor continued, “There has been an explosion on Kuat. It appears a well-organized Rebel cell is threatening the destruction of the orbital shipyards there. This attack, brazen as it is, constitutes a diversionary strike, intended to draw the fleet’s attention closer to the core worlds.”

                “The loss of orbital manufacturing at Kuat would cripple our ability to maintain and repair our fleet.” Vader observed.

                “This pathetic band of brigands lacks the ability to deal such a blow, though some of the rebellion’s most capable personnel appear to be involved, my spies tell me.” Palpatine walked across the suite, while the two men followed, “We have received a report that three Rebel Cruisers have limped their way to Ord Mantell for repairs. I have foreseen that this is what the Rebellion wants to go unnoticed. While we respond to Kuat, they intend to make repairs and simply slip away.”

                “Understood, my Master.” Vader exhaled.

                “Lord Vader, you shall address the situation on Kuat personally. Take a shuttle, I do not want to scatter the infiltrators, I want to capture them.”

                “Yes, my Master.”

                “Admiral Piett, you shall take _Executor_ to Ord Mantell and destroy the damaged cruisers. Take whatever other ships you need, but leave a force to reinforce either Vader, or yourself, should the need arise.”

                “It will be done my Lord.” Piett said, barley keeping his dry throat from cracking.

                “There is another matter…” The Emperor began.

                Piett felt his stomach sink. _Just when I thought I was safe…_

                “Though our ceremonies have been canceled in light of this new Rebel activity, I will be awarding a unit citation to both the crew of this ship as well as to the ground forces commanded by General Veers.

                “A great Honor my Lord, the men fight for the glory of the Empire.” said Piett, relieved.

                “Indeed they do.” the Emperor fixed his gaze on the Admiral, “In addition to your recent promotion, I have a gift for you, Admiral Piet.” The Emperor gestured to the large viewing port behind them. As the trio approached, a group of five TIE Interceptors passed in review. The lead fighter, at the center of the wedge formation broke off from the group with a fast loop and barrel roll, displaying uncommon skill and maneuverability before making a slow speed pass. The TIE Interceptor was different from the rest: instead of the Imperial grey galvanized coating, this craft was a polished crimson.

                “I am transferring a top pilot from my Royal Guard to your command, Admiral Piett.”

                The red TIE made another loop before breaking off for the hangar bay with a shocking burst of acceleration.

                “My Emperor, I have no words.” Piett stuttered.

                “Use this valuable asset wisely, Admiral.”

***

 

                The blue-white swirl of distorted space spun by the windows of the _Executor’s_ command bridge. The Master of the ship, Captain Venka flanked Admiral Piett atop the causeway spanning the command and control sections below.

                “One hour to destination.” the Quartermaster chimed out as the rear doors to the bridge hissed open. Three TIE pilots traversed the causeway, two clad in their black flight suits and standard TIE helmets. The center pilot, was a different matter altogether. The uniform was much like the red plasteel armor of the Emperors’ Royal Guard, yet possessed all the functionality of the TIE flight suit. The helmet was a perfect blend of both designs, the single viewport and sleek lines terminating in a TIE respirator.

                The crew of the command bridge found themselves very much distracted by the new Wing Commander.

                “You sent for us, Sir?” One of the black clad TIE pilots asked.

                “Indeed,” Piett said as he and Venka turned to face the pilots, “Unmask yourselves so that I may speak to you.”

                All three pilots unhooked their life support; the pressurized suits venting from somewhere behind their helmets. The Royal Guard’s helmet took extra, but well-practiced effort to remove. As it finally slid off the pilot’s head, Captain Venka was unable to stifle a gasp.

                The Chiss female’s bright blue skin and solid, luminous, crimson eyes were framed by long black hair tucked about her regal face. She was tall, ageless and supremely confident. She was a vision of strength and exotic beauty: as enchanting as she was haunting.

                “Your eyes match your Armor, Pilot. Name and rank please.” Piett ordered, maintaining the illusion of composure.

                “Captain Saat’ya Vyn, of his Excellency’s Royal Guard Squadron,” she spoke with pride under a cocked eyebrow, “It is my pleasure to be at your service, Admiral.” Her voice carried over the men’s senses like a glass of Alderaani wine: smooth, robust and chilled to a cold complexity.

                “As we have not had time to properly integrate you into our command structure Captain, you shall deploy as an independent unit on this mission. Go where you can do the best good, order wingmen to your side as needed and direct the fighter squadrons from your own craft.” Piett ordered, “Commanders, you will obey any and all direction from Captain Vyn. Proceeded on mission as briefed, but understand that she has operational authority over the Fighter and Bomber squadrons.”

                The TIE Commanders nodded in obedience.

                “Pilots,” Admiral Piett paused as he made deliberate eye contact with each of them, “man your fighters.”

                The Pilots saluted and made a rigid about face, the Chiss female continued to captivate much of the bridge crew until the doors slid shut behind her. Captain Venka looked at the Admiral, awaiting some kind of commentary on their new pilot, but none came. A long silence passed as Piett reviewed status reports on a datapad.

                “Fifteen Minutes to destination.” the Quatermaster announced some time later.

                Admiral Piett looked over his shoulder at Captain Venka with stoic features:

“Battle stations.”

***

                “…GENERAL QUARTERS, ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS. ALL COMBAT SQUADRONS MAN YOUR SPACECRAFT…” The intercom echoed through a hangar alive with activity. Support personnel in color coded utility uniforms dashed about the bay; an ordinance handler in a red vest paused as the blue skinned Fighter ace ignored all safety protocols, walking the most direct route through the Hangar to her craft. The red TIE Interceptor had already been loaded into the launch arm and would be among the first craft deployed. The fighter stood out among the other fighters and bombers as much as its pilot did among the pale-skinned humans and their drab uniforms.

                “Captain Vyn, Sir!” a Crew Chief sprinted to catch up with the extraordinary pilot, “Your fighter is online and ready for launch, safety systems checked and preflight diagnostics complete. Your weapons are set for a 110% overcharge as requested and your shield generator favors the forward deflector. I also took the liberty of having our Senior Armorer service your blaster rifle and charge your force pike.”

                Saat’ya came to an abrupt halt and removed a glove as she turned to face the enlisted man. She cupped the crew chief’s cheek in her bare hand, letting a long moment of silent eye contact pass before speaking:

                “I thank you Senior Chief.” Saat’ya turned away without another word, allowing her finger tips to trail off the man’s chin. The amusement of simultaneously arousing and terrifying human men never seemed to get old for her, particularly in ethnically monochrome world of the Galactic Empire.

                Moments later she was aboard her modified TIE Interceptor, the variant specially commissioned by the Emperor himself. There were several identical craft, but this one was hers; she called it _Slasher._

                “FIVE MINUTES TO TARGET. ALL COMBAT SQUADRONS STAND BY FOR LAUNCH”

                Captain Saat’ya Vyn ran through her preflight check, busying herself to take her mind off an increasingly itchy trigger finger.

***

                “Exiting hyperspace in 3…. 2….. 1…”

                The distorted tunnel of space-time dissolved before the mighty hull of _Executor._ The enormous capital ship had dropped out of hyperspace brazenly close to both the planet of Ord Mantell, and one of her fifteen moons.

                “Admiral, Captain… we are picking up cruisers…Mon Calamari Type 80… Liberty Class.” the Scanner Officer called out.

                “Which ones?” Captain Venka demanded.

                “Looks like the _Hadalpelagic_ , the _Benthos_ and the _Reef Home_ , Sir.”

                “Previous action report?” Admiral Piett requested.

                “It’s coming to both of your datapads now, Gentlemen.” The Officer stuck his head back in the display, looking over the shoulder of his seated subordinate, “Only the _Reef Home_ is operational and it does not appear to be operating at full power. The other two are still connected to the space docks, and protected by a shield generated from the planet’s surface.”

                “Two sitting ducks is better than none.” Piett observed, “Captain, engage the _Reef Home.”_

“Yes Admiral.” Captain Venka said, before turning to issue orders to his crew.

                “I want the coordinates of the shield generator sent to the bomber squadron immediately. Begin mapping the planetary defenses in the vicinity and upload it to the Bomber’s targeting data as soon as possible.”

                “Yes, Admiral!” the scanner officer replied.

                “Re-route auxiliary power to the forward batteries.” Piett ordered.

                “Already done, Admiral.” Venka replied.

                “Fighters! Closing fast!”

                “How many?” Piett asked.

                “Their formation is too tight to tell, Sir.” the scanner officer said.

                “Did they drop out of hyperspace?” Captain Venka asked.

                “Negative Captain,” the scanner officer replied, “Their coming from that moon!”

                “The Rebels are many things, but they are not complacent,” Piett activated his comm link, “Escort group stay on the Bombers, all other craft are directed to engage the Rebel fighters.”

               In response, a single crimson TIE Interceptor roared past the command bridge, rocketing towards the Rebel Squadron with all possible haste.

 

                From inside the advanced optics of the Royal Guard Helmet, Saat’ya could track multiple targets at once, without looking at her display. Normally pilots would report their observations of the enemy verbally, but Saat’ya’s computer uploaded it directly to the shared battle network.

                She watched the swarm of rebel fighters grow larger, from a cloud of grey gnats to a squadron of spacecraft; the range on her targeting computer drawing down in a digital blur. X-Wings, A-Wings, nonsensical looking B-Wings and even a few decrepit Y-Wing fighter-bombers were now discernable with the naked eye. Saat’ya drew in a deep breath, and exhaled with blaster fire. Three rapid bursts took down the shields of a lead X-Wing, and one more volley finished it off, the explosion impressive even at the significant distance. The Rebels opened fire on the edge of their effective range, multiple fighters targeting the crimson TIE. Saat’ya threw her fighter into an oscillating spiral, the erratic helical trajectory making her an impossible target. Focusing on her sight, she let a burst of overcharged blaster fire fly each time the roll passed her crosshairs over a rebel fighter. The faster craft made up the lead element, and therefor took the brunt of Saat’ya’s attack. An A-Wing detonated silently in the vacuum of space.

                Multiple fighters loosed concussion missiles, causing Saat’ya’s display to flash red accompanied by a sharp alarm.

                The crimson TIE accelerated with a terrifying burst of speed, closing the distance with the Rebels and punching through their formation before the missiles could turn. Space fighters flew past her in a fury of colors, s-foils and blaster fire. Having slipped through the first wave, Saat’ya now faced the slower craft: Y-Wings and even a few Z-95 Headhunters, both varieties operating on borrowed time. She banked hard then flew swiftly along the relative vertical, before diving down to strafe the bombers from above. The Y-Wings were lined in an abreast formation, preparing to release their heavy ordinance on the _Executor_ at maximum range. Saat’ya glided in at a casual attack angle; high and slow. She redirected engine power to her weapons before opening fire on the flying relics. One after another, the bombers shattered: their powerful engines tearing the airframe in two as the Chiss targeted their center fuselage. By the time her blaster cannons were drained, half of the bomber wing was little more than space junk.

                Between Saat’ya and the _Executor,_ the TIE Fighter squadrons had engaged the bulk of the Rebel force. Spacecraft dived, climbed and banked in a cloud of fury and acrobatics. Saat’ya’s weapons had managed to regain a partial charge by the time she opened fire on the last of the bombers. In desperation, the final Y-Wing pilot released his heavy bombs at extreme long range, one of them actually managing to get away before the Saat’ya claimed the pilot’s life, and his craft.

                With relative ease, Captain Vyn closed on the bomb, and destroyed it in a single shot, flying through the very explosion she had created.

                “Crimson One, this is _Executor.”_ Her comm link crackled.

                “Go ahead _Executor_.” she replied.

                “Lock your tracking computer on Target 227, it is the lead A-Wing in a group that has broken off from the main force and is heading for the bombers. Move to intercept immediately. The Escort Fighters are out of range.” Piett’s voice was unmistakable.

                “Roger _Executor_. Killing Target 227.” Saat’ya punched her throttle.

                The A-Wings were extremely fast. In order to make enough speed to catch them before they reached the TIE Bombers, Saat’ya began draining her shields. Though they would charge amidst the coming dog fight, it would leave her vulnerable for several precious moments.

                _Just like every other TIE pilot._ She thought

                Ord Mantell grew ever larger, filling Captain Vyn’s field of view as she rocketed towards the three A-Wings in tight formation. The Fighter escort had gotten caught up with a flight of Rebel X-Wings, as a result they were several precious minutes behind. The A-Wing’s concept was a design Saat’ya admired: the largest fighter engines and blaster cannons available to the Rebellion connected by a minimum about of fuselage. It had been rushed into production to counter the TIE Interceptor…

                But it could not counter _her_ TIE Interceptor.

                “Theta Squadron, this is Crimson One. Break to your flanks on my mark.” She radioed.

                A crackle came back, the hum of the TIE Bomber engines underpinning their response; “Crimson One this is Theta Leader, standing by to break formation on your mark.”

                “Acknowledged.” She replied, watching the distance to target count down, the reticle of her blaster cannons trained on the A-Wing Leader. The second she was in range, Saata’ya would hit the leader with all six barrels; four wing cannons and the two standard chin cannons. She suspected it would be enough to get the job done in a single blow.

                These A-Wing hulls were camouflaged, painted to match the planet surface.

                _Thirty Seconds,_ she thought. Saat’ya intended to disintegrate the leader from above, surprising and scattering the remainder of the group long enough for her to pick them apart. She would have the Bombers break first, for safety sake. There was no need for the mission critical TIEs to be in the line of fire. Saat’ya keyed her comm link:

                “Three.” She steadied her flight path for the attack.

                “Two.” She throttled back, matching her speed with the Rebels. Her reticle went from red to green, framing the lead A-Wing in harm’s way.

                “One…..Break!” She commanded. As the lumbering Bombers peeled off to the left and right, the lead A-Wing dropped its nose hard and executed a loop, reversing direction.

                Saat’ya lost the shot, but she did not pursue. With a slide of her yoke, she engaged a second A-Wing, loosing directed energy fury with a click of her trigger. The first volley knocked out the A-Wing’s shields, the second tore a hole through the fighter’s center, vaporizing the pilot and detonating the concussion missiles in their launcher. The third A-Wing continued to chase the TIE Bombers, but broke its attack as soon as Saat’ya settled in astern of him. The evasive maneuvers were effective under normal conditions, but Captain Vyn was no normal pilot. The Crimson TIE turned tighter than the A-Wing, its cannon’s coming to bear even as the shields replenished and the weapons recharged: Saat’ya had the power to spare and the maneuverability to win. This fight was as good as over.

                The Bombers continued enroute to their target, entering the atmosphere in the distance.

                “Crimson One, this is Escort Group Omega. ETA 30 seconds.” The comm link broadcasted.

                “This will be over in 30 seconds Commander, stay on the Bombers.” Saat’ya ordered.

                “Roger Crimson One. Watch Target 227, he’s closing on your 6.”

                _Impossible. I’m turning tighter than he can._ She though. “Do you have a visual, Omega Leader?”

                “Affirmative Crimson One, 6 o’clock High.”

                Saat’ya looked through the viewing ports in her upper hatch, but saw nothing. She continued to close on her target, pulling the trigger when she had the green light. As she fired, orange-red blaster bolts struck her weakened rear shield, knocking it out altogether. Saat’ya had wounded her target; its left engine emitting debris as it flickered and died, but now she had problems of her own. She would have to come back for the wounded A-Wing later. As she cork-screwed her way out of the line of fire, she returned her targeting computer to Target 227. It was right where Omega Leader had said, but she couldn’t see her attacker. In a risky move, the kind she was known for, Saat’ya fired her aft landing thrusters and flipped her TIE end for end, cutting the main engines. The TIE’s momentum continued in its direction of travel, but she now faced the reverse direction. With a clear view of space that had been behind her moments before, Saat’ya saw nothing, no Target 227.

                _Impossible! If it was cloaked I wouldn’t be able to target it!_

                Surprised by the Crimson TIE’s sudden maneuver, the Lead A-Wing spun to avoid a collision; rolling clockwise, exposing its camouflaged top as well as its flat black underbelly. Each time the A-Wing’s bottom was exposed, it disappeared from view, the black bottom blending in with space the same way the camouflaged top had blended with the planet’s surface.

                _Neat trick._ Saat’ya released a snap shot at the A-Wing’s profile. The shields deflected the shot as the light craft was knocked off course.

                Saat’ya throttled up, engaging Target 227. Even as the second A-Wing limped back to the safety of the moon from whence it came, Captain Vyn knew the TIE Bombers would not be stopped. She was free to engage her adversary. The A-Wing broke right and Saat’ya executed a scissor maneuver, curving around to intercept the Rebel Fighter on the high side.

                The A-Wing dove hard and fast, denying her the shot yet again.

                _So much for 30 seconds._

***

                _Reef Home_ passed the infinitely larger _Executor_ , exchanging a titanic broadside salvo. The Rebel ship’s maneuver was perfectly executed to avoid the thickest fire from the Super Star Destroyer, but the exchange was devastating for the Rebels nonetheless. The Mon Calamari cruiser’s heavy shields had been reduced to 16% strength along the entire starboard side. The thunderous point blank fire shook both vessels with cacophonous violence.

                “Admiral Piett, Sir!,” the scanner chief called out from the control pit below the bridge windows, “The shield protecting the disabled ships has been deactivated!”

                “Very Well.” Piett said, “Captain Venka, engage and destroy the _Benthos_ and the _Hadalpelagic_ in their space dock.

                “And _Reef Home_ , Sir? Captain Venka asked.

                “Ignore it for now. If they would like to commit suicide with another broadside exchange, so much the better.”

                “Helm, give me right 5 degrees vector at half ahead.” Venka ordered.

                “Right five, Aye Captain.” The helmsman called out.

                “Half ahead, Aye Captain!” An Officer echoed.

                “Intensify the rear deflector shield, and order all forward batteries to prepare to fire on the _Benthos_.” Venka ordered.

                “Aye, Sir!”

                As the monstrous Star Destroyer closed on the Rebel Cruisers, its green cannon fire pulsed in coordinated flashes. Unlike the erratic and spontaneous fire of a typical fleet engagement, this was a coordinated strike; the bright glare heralding a volley of destruction headed for the dormant starship. _Benthos_ shuttered with each impact. The Mon Calamari type 80 Cruiser absorbed a surprising amount blaster fire before she began to come apart. The _Executor_ nowloomed over the doomed ship, the blaster batteries of its underbelly raining down death with utter contempt.

                “Admiral, Captain! The _Hadalpelagic_ is underway!” the scanner chief hastily reported.

                “How is that Possible, Chief? They are powered down and in spacedock?” Venka replied.

                “The dock is still attached Sir, and were reading an energy bloom in her reactor!” said the chief. Venka rushed down from the command platform to view the screen for himself.

                “Zoom in on this section here.” Venka pointed. When the screen focused, the Captain couldn’t believe his eyes.

                “Admiral, several tugs are pulling the _Hadalpelagic_ in our direction _._ They are too close aboard for us to avoid them.” Venka shouted up to Piett.

                “And the energy bloom?” Piett asked.

                “Consistent with a cooling rod failure in their main reactor. It could be a self-destruct sequence, Admiral.” Venka replied.

                The _Benthos_ gave a final burst of energy as it exploded, the _Executor’s_ fire ceasing abruptly.

                “Signal all fighter wings to return to the hangar. Prepare for the jump to hyperspace.”

                “Admiral, Captain, new contacts. Rebel Cruisers have just dropped out of Hyperspace and are blocking the hyperspace lane. It’s the _Home One,_ and several other capital ships.”

                “Ackbar.” Piett said aloud, “Signal the reinforcements to jump to our location and engage. Focus all firepower on the space tugs pulling the _Hadalpalagic_. Helm, prepare to come about!”

                Venka looked up at Piett, expecting his next words.

                “I have the Conn.” the Admiral announced.

                “Sir, all reinforcements have jumped to Kuat, in support of Lord Vader’s operation. There is no one left to come to our aid!” The communications officer spoke.

                “Get the fighters aboard, NOW!” Captain Venka bellowed.

                “There is no time Captain.” Piett said as he grimly stared out the bridge windows.

                “Excuse me Sir?” Venka asked.

                “We do not have time to get the fighters aboard before that cruiser detonates and cripples this ship. Prepare to make the jump to hyperspace immediately.”

                “But Sir!” Venka stressed, “The rebel ships are in the hyperspace lane!”

                “I am aware Captain. I suggest you put your best navigator on the job so we don’t collide.”

                “Yes…Sir.” The color had drained from Venka’s face. He was their best navigator.

***

                On the edge of Ord Mantell’s atmosphere, Captain Saat’ya Vyn and heir skilled opponent circled each other in a dance of expertise and malice. The skin of their fighters heated to a glow as they crossed in to the exosphere, only to cool when they skipped back over the edge into space. Saat’ya could neither be frustrated, nor worn down easily, and she was beginning to think the same of her adversary. Her attention was temporarily distracted by the distant Super Star Destroyer’s rapid maneuvers. The colossal ship pivoted with the speed of a light cruiser, its indomitable bow swinging to face the newly arrived rebel fleet.

                “Mother of….” Saat’ya blurted out as the _Executor_ made the jump to light speed. The Rebel fleet was cast aside violently as the wake in space-time pushed the heavy cruisers off their axis.

                The comm link came alive with the chatter of panicked Imperial pilots.

                “All Wings, this is Crimson One. Engage the fighters, avoid the capital ship. Put as much distance between yourselves and that….”

                Blaster fire from the A-Wing knocked out her comm link. Her divided attention had finally given the Rebel pilot the advantage, allowing the nimble spacecraft to set up shop behind her.

                _I’ll shake you lose, Rebel Scum._

                Saat’ya skipped across the upper atmosphere, slaloming around communication and navigation satellites before passing between the solar panels of a derelict research station. All through the ride, the A-Wing kept pace with ease, even taking a shorter route beneath the station closing the distance to Saat’ya’s TIE even further. The bursts of orange streaked past the TIE’s panels as Saat’ya bobbed and weaved to avoid the blaster fire.

                An alarm sounded in her cockpit: a cloud of orbital debris was approaching at high speed in low orbit.

                _Alright Rebel, let’s take this fight to the streets._

                Transferring all power from her weapons to her shields and engines, Captain Vyn and her custom TIE Interceptor became a meteorite. The Imperial ace pushed the yoke forward, blasting straight down into Ord Mantell’s stratosphere, leaving the A-Wing to deal with the debris storm. _Slasher’s_ shields held, even as fire enveloped the craft. Alarms rang out as the temperature within the cockpit rose with each tremor of turbulence. The TIE shook violently, and Saat’ya struggled to control her dive. With her visibility near zero, and her sensors and altimeter useless, the Captain had to guess how far below her the planet’s surface would be. Pulling out of the dive took time, Ord Mantell’s gravity now limiting her maneuvers. If Saat’ya pulled some of the stunts down here that she did in space, the g-forces would tear her, and the TIE to pieces.

                The planet’s surface came into view just as her instruments began to read again. She leveled out at a comfortable thousand meters above the junk strewn savannah.

                The sky was clear. No A-Wing; her opponent had not given chase. Saat’ya searched _Slasher’s_ memory banks for any Imperial assets on the planet. Even the most remote garrison would be preferable to being exposed and alone without a friendly hangar bay to return to:

                _0 Results_

“Damn it” _._ Saat’ya replied aloud.

                High above, the Rebel Cruiser _Hadalpelagic_ detonated against empty space, immolating the spacedock facility as well as the tugs which pulled it under tow. The explosion was visible from ground level.

                At that moment, a different fireball rained from the sky. From the inferno, an A-Wing emerged, pulling out of the dive less than 300 meters from the surface, directly in front of Saat’ya.

                _Now you’re mine._

                The intense heat had thrown off many of the sensors aboard _Slasher_ , and she knew they would need recalibration: nevertheless, she had never been a technology dependent pilot. Captain Vyn was a gunfighter, not a missile queen. The in helmet display was no longer functional, but the crosshair reticle for her blaster cannons worked just fine. Saat’ya sent a burst of energy bolts into the A-Wing’s stern, vaporizing the rear shield. The A-Wing came alive with the hit, diving for the planet surface.

                Saat’ya followed.

                Junk and debris were thrown into the air as the rebel fighter streaked across the savannah, causing the Junkers working the fields below to dive for cover as the fighters passed. Saat’ya could tell where the pilot was headed: a group of mesa rock formations marked the entrance to a canyon ahead. Captain Vyn let go another burst, scorching the A-Wings rear stabilizer.

                The shot that knocked the TIE Interceptor from the sky came from the planet’s surface. Saat’ya barely had time to think as she looked for a place to land while she still had the ability to do so. Calmly, the Chiss went into emergency mode, smoothly managing her situation for the best result: no fear, no panic, no confusion. Just skill, training and experience. Captain Saat’ya Vyn was going down.

***

                The Junkers manning the mechanized Ion cannon were still celebrating when the camouflaged A-Wing came in hot, streaking across the arid landscape and coming to a sudden halt above them; it made a deliberately hard and rapid landing amidst their camp. The fighter’s canopy opened, and a green jump suited pilot leapt from the cockpit to the fuselage and slid to the ground, not bothering with any grace or composure.

                “Who shot that TIE down?” The Pilot bellowed.

                “We didn’t shoot at you Rebel, relax. We would never fire on the Alliance! Besides, it looked like you could use the help!” The Weequay scavenger said, his mannerisms broadcasting a caviler demeanor.

                “I said,” The Pilot stripped the helmet off and threw it at the Weequay, causing him to duck, “Who shot down the kriffing TIE Interceptor!”

                The Pilot’s hair fell out of its tie and cascaded down around her shoulders. The human female drew her blaster and looked each of the Junkers in the eye, enraged.

                All remained silent.

                “That was my kill, do you understand me? I fought that pilot from space, down to this rock, and was about to claim a kill on the Royal Guard! Who do you think you are!” Commander Kaida Anarth lectured, her anger beginning to settle even as she ranted.

                “We’re…uh… sorry Pilot. We got to make a living too.” The Weequay offered.

                Kaida didn’t respond. She holstered her blaster pistol and turned back to her aircraft. As she stepped back onto the A-Wing, the Weequay noticed icons painted on the skin of the aircraft: countless TIE Fighters, several shuttles, a number of cargo vessels and even a Star Destroyer. If he had time to count, he would have noted seventy two kills. The Weequay Junker realized that the hot headed human must have been one of the top aces in the Rebel Alliance.

                “Do you want your helmet?” A human Junker offered. He was intimidated by the pilot, but something about her long dark hair and burning blue eyes made him want to get back into her good graces. This lovely, angry pilot was magnetic… larger than life even. She spoke with a thick Coruscanti accent; it was the kind of accent that could get you shot in most of the cantinas on Ord Mantell.

                “Keep it as a reminder,” Kaida snarled, “the next time you steal a kill, it may not be from a pilot as good natured as I am.”

                The human gulped on an empty throat.

                “I’m going to take off and go look for that red TIE. If any of you are still standing here by the time I swing around, I’m going to open fire.”

                Commander Kaida Anarth blasted off with haste, casting much of the Junker’s camp into disarray. She could not see a single individual by the time she swung around… she did however, blast a hole through the mobile ion cannon as she flew past.

                So her search began, Kaida assumed a bright red TIE Interceptor would stick out like a sore thumb amidst this junkyard of a planet.

                The Royal Guard Pilot may have lost, but it did not mean that Kaida had won, a detail that gnawed at her from the inside. The Junkers had denied her the chance to settle the contest in the air, and Commander Anarth hated unfinished business.

                _What to do…_ the helmetless Rebel Ace pondered, _what to do indeed._

                The A-Wing settled into its search over the dry, wreckage strewn crust of Ord Mantell.

 

_To be continued…._

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
